Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Zodyl Typhon… Love Meter: 1%.”

The words float there in front of you, glowing faintly, like they’re mocking you on purpose.

You mutter the name under your breath, testing how it feels in your mouth. Certainly a unique name. Your eyes drag themselves off the profile and flick back to System slowly, dread crawling up your spine like something alive. You lift a hand to your head, fingers automatically fixing your hair even though you’re completely alone.

Your stomach sinks.

“…It’s not the cockroach man, is it?” you ask quietly. Your voice comes out smaller than you want it to, horror bleeding through anyway as the image flashes vividly in your mind again. The coat. The black and white hair. The empty black eyes. The way he stood there, calm and unbothered. The way he casually ate that thing like it was a snack. Disgusting.

System doesn’t answer right away. It hovers there in front of you. Suspiciously quiet.

[I’m gonna hold your nonexistent balls when I tell you this.] It finally says it, flat and merciless. Same disappointed tone. Same lack of sympathy.

Your balls drop.

“Oh man…” you mutter.

Your legs give out completely as you slump down the wall, sliding until you hit the floor with a dull thud. The impact barely registers. The carpet feels rough under your palms as you stare straight ahead, eyes unfocused. Of all people. Of all possible love interests.

This?

How are you even supposed to find him, let alone—God forbid—rizz him up? He ate a cockroach.

A full-ass cockroach.

Sure, yeah, he was fine as hell. Like, criminally fine. The kind of fine that makes you mad about it. But that does not cancel out the fact that he willingly consumed a bug off the ground. Your stomach flips just thinking about it.

You make a mental note. No—scratch that. A vow. You will never, ever kiss him. You will never let him breathe the same air as you.

“I don’t wanna!” you suddenly shout, voice cracking with frustration.

“I DON’T WANNA!”

“I DON’T WANNA!”

You roll dramatically across the floor, limbs flailing, face smushed into the carpet like it might absorb your suffering. You kick your legs once, twice, like a dying insect. Karma, probably.

System floats above you, completely unbothered, the profile still open as information scrolls lazily beside Zodyl’s stupidly attractive face.

[Honestly,] it mutters, [I would have called you immature and childish for this behavior…]

It pauses.

[…but it’s understandable, given what he did.]

You stop rolling just long enough to glare up at it from the floor, hair sticking to your face, breathing uneven. “Thank you,” you snap. “At least someone gets it.”

System tilts slightly, the screen flickering.

[Read the rest, twin.]

You groan, long and miserable, but push yourself up onto your elbows anyway. Your eyes reluctantly drift back to the profile, heart sinking as you realize this isn’t going away. One percent. That stupid little number feels heavier than it should.

1%.

This is your life now, apparently.

And somehow, against all odds—

You’re supposed to fall in love with that.

It’s been two days since the incident with those disgusting men chasing after you.

You haven’t dared to go outside since then. Paranoia clings to you like its a part of you, suffocating, sticky. Every sound outside the hotel room makes your stomach twist. Footsteps. Voices. Doors closing. You’re convinced they’re still out there—searching. Waiting for you to walk out of that door.

Waiting to catch you alone.

To beat the absolute crap out of you.

Just like your parents did.

Just like that other bitch did.

You don’t want to risk it.

At least your ankles aren’t sore anymore, you guess. You’ve done nothing but rot in this room—pacing, laying down, pacing again. Staring at the ceiling. Staring at the walls. Resting all day actually did something for once.

You glance over at System, still floating there, the profile open and glowing softly in the dim room. With a tired sigh, you keep reading.

Gender: Male

Totally not obvious.

Age: 23

You blink.

“…Huh?”

You genuinely thought he was, like, thirty. Maybe even forty. That whole serious aura, the dead eyes, the way he carried himself—it screamed older. Way older. Turns out he’s barely older than you. That doesn’t sit right with your brain at all.

Height: 188 cm (6'2")

You stare at that for a second longer than necessary. He tall asf.

You lean your head back against the wall, exhaling slowly through your nose. Why does he have to be tall too? Like he wasn’t already intimidating enough. As if the universe sat down and personally decided to stack every unfair trait onto one man—and make him your assigned love interest.

You don’t like where this is going.

Not one bit.

“System… what’s a Raider?” you ask as you read ‘Leader of the Raiders’ on the profile.

[Oh, just a group of bandits or sum—] “AW HELL NAW, YOUR ASS IS TWEAKING!” you cry out, scrambling into an empty corner of the room with your back facing System, hands clutching your head.

“Life isn’t real. This is just a dream. Nothing is real…” you mumble, rocking slightly where you sit, trying to cope with the fact you just got a bandit to court.

System zooms in front of you, its glow nearly blinding.

[Hey—!! Look on the bright side… you only gotta fill it to 20% to get more info, or you can always find another love interest!]

“Oh.”

“I love you, System.”

[Teehee! Really!?]
System twirls around your head like a glowing halo, shining brightly—almost like it’s blushing.

“No. You didn’t say it back. Faker.”

[HUH!?] That is the biggest, angriest huh you’ve ever heard in your life.

System glitches violently, the screen flickering like a TV. [IM TAKING MY BREAK EARLY! HAVE FUN GOING OUT ALONE YOU ANTISOCIAL LIL’ SHIT!]

“Wait—Kitten, I was just kidding!—” You stutter as you reach out to the screen. The screen spasms once… then vanishes completely. AGAIN. 

You sit there for a second, staring at the spot where System used to float, heart thumping weirdly in your chest. You didn’t mean it. Well—maybe you did a little. But still. Being alone suddenly feels a lot heavier than you expected.

“…Great,” you mutter. You push yourself up from the floor and glance down at your rollerblades. They gleam faintly, almost like they’re reacting to you looking at them. You crouch, touching the side of one experimentally.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” you warn it.

The metal shifts. Man these Rollerblades tweaking.

You quickly yelled out again. “I SAID DON'T DO ANYTHING STUPID!” 

You flinch back as the wheels retract—smoothly into the sole, reshaping with a soft mechanical hum. The frame compresses, the plating smoothing out until—

Normal shoes.

Clean. Sleek. Black sneakers with subtle accents, the kind that look expensive as hell and absolutely go hard with any outfit. No wheels. No weird bulk. Just… shoes.

“…Oh.”

You lift one foot. Walk. Like a normal human being. “Oh, you’re nice nice.” You mumbled, there was no way you were actually walking like a normal human being. Shout out to these banger shoes.

You grin despite yourself, twisting your foot side to side. Figures your jinki would be practical and stylish. You grab the trash bag—overflowing with bottles and wrappers—and sling it over your shoulder.

The hotel, in its infinite stupidity, doesn’t even have a proper trash chute, so alleyway it is. You step outside. The city seems peaceful this evening, no familiar or suspicious looking people.

You walk slowly, one hand shoved into your pocket, sneakers tapping softly against the pavement. Without System yapping in your ear, your thoughts get louder.

No one’s talking to you. No one’s looking for you. No one would even notice if you disappeared. You swallow the lump that build up in your throat. Guess that’s normal, though. No one ever really did.

The alley is narrow and dim, lined with dumpsters that look like they’ve seen several crimes and survived none of them emotionally.

A short figure stands a few feet away, half-hidden in the shadow of the alley. He looks… terrified. Like, genuinely about to piss himself. When you turn your head and your gaze lands on him, he flinches hard, shoulders jerking up to his ears.

He had a strange lamp on his hip, cool blond and red hair, weirdly familiar purple and white outfit.

“U-uhm—” he squeaks. You stiffen immediately. He fidgets, hands trembling, eyes darting anywhere but your face. “W-would you p-please be so kind and f-follow me—? I—I can t-take you to our b-boss…”

Your heart drops straight into your stomach. Boss? Who the fuck is this guy? You blink at him, brain pausing for a second.

“Uhm…” Your voice comes out awkward, your voice almost cracked. “Who is your… boss?” He gulps.

“…Zodyl.”

Your soul leaves your body.

“Oh.”

You grab it back.

“Oh.” The boy seemed to be fidgeting with some kind of doll as he looked into your eyes again. He kinda looks like a racoon.“So does that mean you will—HEY—WAIT, PLEASE—!” You’re already gone.

Your sneakers shift mid-step, metal sliding, wheels snapping out as you sprint. The rollerblades activate fully and you shoot forward, the sudden speed almost knocking the breath out of you as you bolt out of the alley and down the street. You look back and the guy doesn't chase you, just frozen as he.. cries???

You kinda feel bad for him, I mean he just tryna do his job and he didn't seem hostile. You don’t stop skating until your lungs burn and your legs ache, finally slowing down in a quieter side street. You bend over slightly, hands on your knees, breathing hard.

“What the fuck,” you whisper, barely loud enough to hear over your own breathing.

If a member of the Raiders came for you that easily, then there’s no way he’s the only one. That thought sinks its claws into your chest and refuses to let go. If one of them found you, what’s stopping the others? How many eyes are on you right now? How many people already know your face?

Your hand trembles as you fish a chocolate bar out of your pocket. You tear into it and shove a piece into your mouth, chewing more out of nerves than hunger. You didn’t even activate the speed boost this time—wasted. Figures. The sweetness barely registers as the paranoia creeps back in, heavy and suffocating.

You need to get back to the hotel. Like, now. THIS INSTANT. You turn around, intending to retrace your steps—only to freeze.

Nothing looks right.

The streets stretch out in unfamiliar directions, branching off into intersections you don’t remember crossing. Neon signs glow with names you don’t recognize. You’re pretty sure you crossed at least a dozen streets without realizing it, too focused on running and not dying to actually pay attention.

…Great.

You’re lost.

Your stomach drops as you slowly spin in place, scanning for anything—anything—that looks familiar. A landmark. A sign. A miracle. Where the hell is System when you actually need them?

You swallow hard and force your legs to move, rollerblades gliding forward as you pick a direction at random. Your heart won’t stop racing, so you do the only thing you can think of to keep from fully spiraling.

“Harpoons, harpoons… they’re better than spoons… harpoons…” you hum quietly under your breath, the stupid little tune grounding you just enough to keep going.

You skate past rows of shops, eyes flicking from window to window. Some of them almost look familiar. Almost. Like déjà vu that refuses to commit. You cling to that fragile hope, following it deeper into the city, praying it leads you somewhere safe.

Anywhere but here.

“This hair…” he mutters. “Eyes…”

“…rollerblades…” He pauses, squinting slightly, like something isn’t lining up. “No?” he adds quietly, then tilts his head the other way. “Mmh…” You realize with a strange, sinking feeling that he’s not really talking to you. “Fu said he saw ya with one…” he continues, half to himself, half to the air, pink eyes flicking back up to meet yours. Your grip tightens around the trash without you realizing it, pulse roaring in your ears. Every instinct you have is screaming at you to run—now, immediately, before whatever this turns into gets worse.

"Dope ass shoes ya got though." He complimented you as he looked back up at you. 

"Thanks.. Your sh—" Your eyes dropped to his ugly ahh shoes, man what the hell... do you have on your feet— before noticing the silver rings on his fingers.

Your shoes

"—Your Rings are beautiful" you finish, a little awkwardly. Then he laughs. Not loud. Not cruel. Just a low, amused sound that rumbles out of his chest, like you accidentally said something way funnier than you meant to. The kind that sends shivers down your spine.

A faint pink aura starts surronding him, his eyes flare brighter, hot neon pink burning through the dim alley light. The silver rings on his fingers twitch. Then shift.

Metal stretches, warps, sharpens, each ring unraveling into long, curved claws that gleam like polished blades. They flex as he moves his hand, testing them, the sound of metal scraping metal making your stomach drop.

“This is Mankira,” he says casually, like he’s introducing a pet. “My Vital Instrument.” His grin widens, slow and deliberate, canines fully on display now. Not exaggerated. Just sharp enough to remind you that he absolutely could bite if he wanted to.

“Boss man wants to talk with you,” he continues, taking one slow step closer.

“So I’m gonna need you to come with me.” Your brain is screaming. Your heart is racing. Your mouth moves before your common sense does.

“Oh… uh,” you say, eyes flicking past his shoulder. “Who is that guy behind you?”

He snickers instantly, not even bothering to look back. “Ain’t no one behind me,” he says, smug as hell. “I ain’t fallin’ for the oldest trick in the book, sweetie.” You stand there for half a second longer than necessary, face painfully neutral.

“Yes there is…” you insist quietly. “…Is he also with you?” That’s all the opening you need.

Before he can fully turn his head, your shoes shift beneath you—metal snapping out, wheels locking in—and you dash. The alley blurs. You shoot forward, speed slamming into your body like a shockwave, wind tearing past your ears. Trash bags and brick walls smear into streaks of color. Your heart pounds as you push harder—

And behind you— Laughter. Loud now. Wild. Giddy.

“Man you are faster than I imagined and told!”

You glance back for half a second and regret it immediately. He’s chasing you with seemingly no struggle.

“he's chasing me? Oh my goodness, HE'S CHASING ME!” You screamed to yourself as you tried going faster.

This man was giggling like this is the most fun he’s had all week, eyes glowing, claws dragging sparks off the wall as he runs. Even with your speed boost, he’s still too close. Way too close. Your head starts to ache, a sharp pressure building behind your eyes as you force more power into your legs. Your vision shines brightly as you get ready to teleport. You whip around a corner onto another street, nearly losing your balance— You look back.

He’s gone. Your stomach drops.

“—What?”

Panic spikes. You dart into another alley, lungs burning— And slam straight into something solid.

A hard chest.

You bounce off and hit the ground with a painful thud, the world flashing white as the air gets knocked out of you. You gasp, vision swimming. You quickly looked up at the person. He’s already there. Standing over you with the same sinister smile. He went around the building. Predicted your route. Cut you off like it was nothing. How humiliating.

“Man,” he says, laughing breathlessly, hands on his knees as he leans down to look at you. “You fast as hell.” His grin stretches wider, eyes gleaming with excitement.

“But I know you stronger than that. I can feel it in my bones.”

Your headache is pounding now, splitting. Your vision doubles—triples—his form wobbling like you’re underwater. The world tilts dangerously. Still, you try. You scramble, pushing yourself up, forcing your legs to move despite the dizziness— And he’s on you.

He tackles you from behind, both of you rolling hard into the wall. Your back slams against brick, pain blooming, breath knocked loose again. “Don’t try to leave,” he murmurs into your ear, voice low, thrilled. “You are fun!” His arms lock around your waist like iron bands. You claw uselessly at the ground, fingers scraping against concrete as you try to crawl away. He doesn’t budge and you swear he was sniffing your scent at some point.

“And I like fun…”

You twist your head just enough to see his face. He looks way too excited. Eyes bright. Smile manic. You can feel his muscles through his shirt—solid. He’s strong. Like unfairly strong.

“Now,” he continues smoothly, tightening his grip just a little, “you gonna be a good girl and come with me, alr?” His breath is warm against your neck.

“It’d be a shame if I had to ruin that beautiful face of yours.” One of his hand cupped your face as he dazed into your eyes.

You groan weakly, exhausted, dizzy, and deeply over this. “Damn,” you mutter, voice flat and unimpressed.

“At least take me out first if you wanna call me good girl and compliment me stuff…”

You’re obviously being sarcastic. Obviously.

Unfortunately.

He takes it seriously.